My Name is Mariel
by dragonfirechick
Summary: Mariel is a girl who is raised as a daughter by Will Scathelock and his wife, Elen, but she is not really their daughter. What will happen after she finds out and goes to find her real parents?
1. Dinner and Eavesdropping

Um, I don't think that I need a diclaimer because this story is not a fanfic of any one book, it is a fanfic for Robin Hood, period. This story, it's mine, all mine! You can't have it! It's mine, my preciousssss... Whoa, sorry, I was having an out-of-fanfic experience. Hakuna matata! It means no worries, for the rest of your ARGH, NOT ANOTHER ONE!!! Sorry. I'm slightly crazy, as my friends could tell you. Although, maybe you shouldn't trust them, I could tell you such stories about them...*evil grin*  
  
Oh yeah, the story I'm writing. I should shut up (metaphorically speaking) and give it to all of you patient (I hope) people out there.  
  
Anywayz, this is my first Robin Hood fic, but I am writing a fic for Ella Enchanted (3 chapters up so far, I'm working on the fourth), so this one, My Name is Mariel, is really my second fic on this website.  
  
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"There are outlaws in Sherwood Forest," I said, blowing on the hot beans on my plate and watching the dark skin peel off to reveal the lighter stuff inside. I scooped up some with my spoon and took a bite, trying not to burn my tongue.  
  
"Outlaws?" my mother asked, raising one eyebrow quizzically. "Are you sure, Mariel?"  
  
I nodded and swallowed. "Or, at least, there used to be," I added, starting to eat my potato. "This tastes good," I said, soaking a piece in butter and then placing a bite of the rich, mealy potato in my mouth.  
  
While my mother chewed daintily, my father spoke. "How do you know?" he asked, his first contribution to the conversation on any of the subjects Mother and I had had since the beginning of tonight's supper.  
  
I chewed slowly, wondering how best to phrase my answer, knowing that if I admitted seeing one of them, and that I had followed him to their camp, Father would either try to force directions to the camp out of me or forbid me to go near Sherwood again. Most likely, he would choose the latter. Neither, of course, would work, but he is smart enough to know that, and he would post guards or something.  
  
"I stumbled upon a clearing with a huge old oak tree in the middle and a camp around it when I was walking earlier and I thought I saw something, but it was only the sun," I said finally.  
  
"Mariel, would you please go eat the rest of your dinner in the kitchen? Your mother and I need to talk," my father told me, and I carefully gathered my dinner up and left the room. I did not plan to go to the kitchen, though.  
  
After the door closed after me, I walked to the end of the hall, set down my dinner, and took off my shoes. They would click-clack, making walking back impossible. I walked and slid across the hall again, getting to the door without making a sound in my stocking feet. I pressed my ear to the keyhole and listened. I might mention that eavesdropping is one of the two most useful talents I posess. The other one is picking locks. Also, I learned a long time ago to press your ear to a keyhole, not your eye. It makes hearing ten times easier.  
  
Then I decided not to eavesdrop. Not this time, anyway. I walked back down the hall, put my shoes on, and picked up my plate. I hurried to the kitchen, knowing that would be the first place they looked for me when they finished. Besides, they had told me to go there.  
  
When I finished my dinner, I watched Eva, the scullery maid, get dessert ready for my parents. I toyed with the idea of getting Eva to eavesdrop for me, then discarded it.  
  
"Would you tell my parents to come and get me when they finish, Eva? I would really appreciate it," I said, knowing that they most likely would anyway, but I wanted to be sure.  
  
Eva curtsied. "Yes, miss," she said, picking up the tray for my parents.  
  
I sat down on the floor next to Cookie's cat Mouse. She was lapping up a bowl of warm milk on the floor near the wall. I petted her gently, not wanting to disturb her. She was getting plump again. If she was going to have kittens, I was not going to let Cookie drown this litter, I decided. I know that Mouse knows what happens to her kittens, because every time Cookie gets rid of them, she spends days sitting on the roof yowling, making everyone stay away from her. Almost like a period of mourning, I mused.  
  
Poor Mouse. I know I wouldn't like it if someone killed all of my babies every time I had some. Mouse looked up from her milk, licking her lips and blinking a little. She washed her face and mouth with her tongue and paws, making sure to scrub behind her ears. Mouse, satisfied with her bath, climbed into my lap, purring a little. I petted her, and decided that I would make a soft bed for her and the next litter of kittens that she had out of my yarn basket.  
  
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Well, that's all for Chapter One! Hope you liked it, review and tell me! If you don't know how to review, click on the little __________ (insert your favorite word or phrase for blue here, if you don't know any words for blue, check out the second chapter of my Ella Enchanted story, Lenora, at the top I have a really good list of words and phrases that all mean blue) button in the lower left-hand corner and fill out the little window that pops up. Review and I'll post the next chapter! I already have it written, I just need a little incentive to type and post it. So review and give me that incentive! 


	2. Marzipan

This chapter is for Teigr and Black Pixie. Thanks for the reviews!  
  
Black Pixie, I bow to your will, oh master. Here is the next chapter, because you asked so nicely and gave good reasons! Hmm, just to be evil, I think I won't tell who her real parents are for a chapter or two, unless you ask nicely by reviewing.  
  
Teigr, thanks for the review. I'm glad you like it. Here's the next chapter!  
  
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When Mother and Father came to fetch me, I was on my knees with my arms around Cookie's legs, and begging for marzipan.  
  
"Please, Cookie, just a little square of marzipan. Or, even better, a big little square of marzipan. It doesn't even have to be a pretty color or a pretty shape. Please, Cookie, I haven't had any today. I had three whole potatoes with dinner today, and you know that you say that potatoes are the best things for people, so don't I deserve a helping of marzipan? Say, I know, Cookie. If you give me a pan of marzipan, I won't bother you for any more for a whole entire fortnight! Wouldn't that be nice, Cookie? A whole fortnight without me hanging on to you, and you wouldn't have to drag me across the floor like you do when I hang onto your feet and you need to move. Wouldn't that be nice, Cookie? It would be nice for me, too, you see, because then I could be eating marzipan instead of asking for it," was about what I was saying. Eva was rocking back and forth in her chair, holding her sides and laughing so hard she was actually crying.  
  
It didn't help poor Eva when Mother and Father came in and each grabbed one of Cookie's arms and began saying things like, "Marzipan? Oh, darling Cookie, do give us some too. We do so want to eat some. And your's is the best marzipan. Please, Cookie dear, give us some marzipan, too!" over and over.  
  
Finally, Cookie gave in, as she always does, throwing up her hands and saying, "Very well, I'll give you marzipan on one condition: That you all leave me alone for the rest of the night!"  
  
I let go of Cookie's legs and jumped up. Mother and Father let go of her arms. Together we chimed, "We promise, Cookie dearest," holding up our right hands like perfect little angels. Then we all grasped hands and skipped around Cookie, singing a silly little song.  
  
"Marzipan! Marzipan! We get marzipan! Yay!" we sang.  
  
Finally we let Cookie go. Poor Eva, I thought. I wonder if she'll ever stop laughing. Probably not, what with the way Mother and Father and I making faces at her, each other, and Cookie's back.  
  
I stood up from where I was sitting with Mother and Father and tip-toed over to Eva. Mother poked Father and pointed at me. They watched me curiously.  
  
I looked in her left ear, her right eye, her nose, her left eye, her right ear, and grabbed her wrist. To my apparent relief, I found her pulse after trying three different holds.  
  
Then I said, "Open your mouth, close your eyes, stick out your tongue and say 'bleck'."  
  
She tried, but she couldn't manage it around her tongue.  
  
I sighed in relief and said, "I'm really no expert on cases of extreme- giggle-it is, but I believe you'll be all right after a while." Turning to my parents, I said, "Master and Mistress Scathelock, I, Doctor Mariel, in my infinite wisdom..." (here my mother snorted, and I shot her a Look) "prescribe cups of hot tea, bedtime when she is tired, waking up when she feels like it, and plenty of idle time in the sunshine, exercise, and lots and lots of flower picking. In short, drag her out to the country and force her to visit her mother!"  
  
Eva looked shocked and could hardly believe her ears.  
  
"Yes, Eva, take a fortnight or two off to visit your mother. Doctor Mariel's orders, you know," Father winked at me.  
  
Eva began crying in earnest. "Oh, thank you, Master Will, I just don't know what to say," she choked out between sobs.  
  
I gave Mother my handkerchief as she knelt beside Eva. She dabbed carefully at Eva's eyes and said, "Tears? We're the ones who should be in tears. We didn't know that your mother was sick until three days ago when that letter came from the good friar of her village. Even then, we didn't send you. We'll give you an escort, for though the ballads say Robin Hood will never harm a company with a woman, he and his band are not the only dangers you need to worry about."  
  
Eva rushed off to her room to pack, and Cookie handed my father a tray covered in cheesecloth. He set it down carefully, then thanked her and gave her a hug. Mother thanked her and kissed her on one cheek. I thanked her and gave he a hug and kissed her on the other cheek.  
  
"Thank you," I whispered to her again, squeezing her tight and then following my parents out of the kitchen. She waved in response and smiled. Shaking her head, she sat down.  
  
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Well, that's chapter one! For those of you who don't know, marzipan, also called marchpane, is a paste made with almonds that is used for making sweets or covering cakes, and it tastes very good.  
  
Quick, important question: Is this the right length for a chapter? I don't think that I can make chapters too much longer than this, but I could try. Right now, it averages at about 850 words for each chapter, including all this babbling I like to do. Is that a good size?  
  
To answer the question, to tell me to write more, or just to tell me how wonderful I am ((), click the ____________ (insert word or phrase meaning "blue" here) button in the lower left-hand corner.  
  
Isn't my little smiley type thing ( wonderful? Is it working right? The computer I have to type my stories on is a laptop, is not connected to the internet, and does not have a spell checker for Word, but it does the little smiley ( for me when I type a colon and a close parenthesis. 


	3. Alan the minstrel

Yay! I got reviewed! First I want to thank each of my wonderful reviewers separately, then I'll get on with the story, ok?  
  
Teigr, okay, I'll try to make the chapters a little longer. Good idea. What happened was that Eva's mother lives a ways away (I like that, a ways away—it means a fairly long way away) and she got sick, but she's illiterate like most people were in those days, so she got the priest to write a letter to Eva, care of Will and Elen Scathelock. At the time, Will and Elen needed Eva, so they didn't let her go, but then they regretted their decision and told Mariel to find some way to tell Eva to go. Is that better? *gives Teigr a cookie*  
  
Laur1532, wow, I'm so glad that you like it! I know you like Ella Enchanted best of all, so I'm surprised that you read this story. Yay! *gives Laur1532 a cookie*  
  
Black Pixie, yeah, Mariel and her "parents" as you put it *grin* are really close. No self-mutilation allowed. Stop biting your nails. Thank you for the positive encouragement (that's probably a little redundant, but who cares?). I like the lengths of your chapters... That makes it worth the time it takes for you to put them up. Thank you for the wonderful advice. Thanks for your reviews, they really make my day. *gives Black Pixie a cookie*  
  
Miss Piratess, thank you for the compliment! Yay! I finally know someone that is LDS and attends BYU!!! And, yeah, they are close. *gives Miss Piratess a cookie*  
  
sugarsprite, I won't let anybody stare at you, don't worry. And thank you, that was nice of you to say. I don't like it either, but that's what they did with unwanted kittens back then. Glad you like it, I thought it was funny when I first decided on her name, too. Yay, you like the chapter length! Soon, I promise. Good job asking nicely. Yes, she does. I don't know if there is such a thing as good marzipan, but Mariel and Will and Elen like it because, um, they can't get good Hershey's chocolate? Yeah, pretty... *gives sugarsprite a cookie*  
  
And that's what I have to say to my wonderful reviewers! As you can probably tell, I decided to give cyber-cookies to my reviewers today. Next time, should I give out cyber-ice cream or cyber-chocolate? Vote by clicking review!  
  
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"My lord and lady," said a man, a guard, I think. He walked quickly and caught up to us as we approached the Great Hall. "A minstrel is here."  
  
"A minstrel!" I cried, turning and darting back to the kitchens to tell Cookie that a minstrel had come and he would want supper, then dashing back to push ahead of Mother and Father so I would be the first one to reach the hall.  
  
I skidded to a stop in front of the double doors leading into the Great Hall. I made sure my hair was still in place and straightened my dress. Then Mother and Father caught up with me. They entered first, and I waited until they had taken a couple steps before I followed them.  
  
Standing beside the long table where we had eaten dinner was the minstrel the guard had told us about. He had placed his harp on the table and was taking off his wet cloak. It had started raining while we were in the kitchen. His hair was long and dark and wet, dripping down his back and face and shoulders. He shook it out of his face and saw us.  
  
"My lord and lady," he said, offering the same greeting the guard had given Mother and Father. "My name is Alan, and I am but a poor wandering minstrel. May I beg a warm supper and a dry bed in return for entertainment?"  
  
He offered his hand to Mother. She placed her hand in his and he raised it to his lips. I giggled, waiting for a reaction from Father, but I didn't see the one I had expected. Father looked at the minstrel as if he knew him from some far off place, but couldn't quite remember. Then he seemed to remember, but quickly hid his emotions.  
  
"Indeed you may, Master Alan the minstrel," Father said. "I am Will Scathelock and this is my wife, Elen. Please, sit by the fire and dry yourself. Your supper will be brought up soon."  
  
The minstrel saw me. "Is it the lovely lady Mariel I have the pleasure of addressing?" he asked, bowing.  
  
"Indeed it is," I replied, dropping a quick curtsy.  
  
Alan the minstrel ate his supper and dried off, then he took his harp from the table and tuned it. "What will you have first?" he asked, seating himself in the center of the room. By now, almost the entire household was gathered there, guards and servants and stablehands and everyone else that worked here.  
  
"King Arthur," my mother suggested. "Sing of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight." She loved hearing this tale and asked every minstrel that happened by to sing it for her. Alan the minstrel obliged. I didn't listen, because I had heard it so many times and it was now boring.  
  
One of the people suggested Tristran and Isolde next. I listened this time, for the tale of the two lovers always touched me. It is a long story, so I won't really summarize it, but suffice it to say, Tristran and Isolde were not supposed to fall in love, but they accidentally drank a love potion meant for Isolde and King Mark, and from there the story gets increasingly sad. I like it anyway.  
  
The story ended and Alan the minstrel sat with head bowed. He waited for another request.  
  
Suddenly, I had an idea. "Sing of Robin Hood," I suggested. Mother and Father looked at me strangely, but I ignored them. "Sing of Robin Hood and the Lady Marian," I elaborated. I loved the story of the outlaw and his lady.  
  
Alan the minstrel raised his head slowly. "Very well, Lady," he said, raising his hand to the harp.  
  
He sang of their childhood together, of the betrothal of an unwilling Marian to the horrid Guy of Gisbourne, of her rescue by the gallant Robin and his merry men, of her help in many of his escapades, of their marriage and happiness together. Everyone applauded, the ballad was beautifully sung and played.  
  
My father then announced that it was time for everyone to retire, as surely our guest the minstrel must have been tired from his long day. He called a serving maid to show Alan the minstrel to his room, then bid everyone good night. I hugged my mother and father and went to bed, falling asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.  
  
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That's all for now, my hands are tired of typing. I'll get another chapter up soon, but it might not be for this story, so, please be patient. I didn't want to summarize Tristran and Isolde for those of you who have never read the story because it is really long, and I didn't feel like writing ballads for Sir Gawain and the Green Knight or Robin and Marian. I might change that later, but for now, that's all there is. Um, yeah, so, review, I would appreciate suggestions or constructive criticism, and don't forget to vote! 


	4. Who are you?

Grrrrrrr. As those of you who are also reading my HP fic already know, the internet at my house is down and is likely to stay down until the 16th. Therefore, as I'm writing this, it is Friday, but it will not be up until at least Saturday the 10th, when I will be at the library, where there are computers with internet for people to use. *throws random, glass objects at walls and such, stomps feet and screams in frustration* I hate when the internet is down. It really sux, you know? It's like, all of a sudden, computers aren't really worth much. My sister spends her time on a computer editing pictures and stuff, making those funky little doll things you put on websites, but I don't get the point of doing that. If I was going to draw something, I would do it by hand. I just feel lucky that my dad's computer has Linux as well as Windows 2000. Linux has many, many, many fun little games to play, so I use his computer. It's, like, a Franken- computer, and he's Dr. Frankenstein. It has a Dell flat-screen moniter, and bits and pieces that he has found that work really really well. It's the fastest computer I've ever used.  
  
I'm babbling again, aren't I? Sorry. Just trying to express my frustration at the computer's lack of internet access. Grrrrrrrrrrr. I'll get on with the story now.  
  
BTW, no shout-outs for a while. No internet, no shout-outs. I'll try to do a chapter that is just shout-outs while I'm at the library, but no promises. I really do appreciate reviews, and all my reviewers are wonderful!  
  
However, from what I remember, one of my reviewers is a very good guesser. I think it was Black Pixie who guessed things, but I don't really remember and I'm sorry if I have the wrong person's name. So, I guess, one shout-out today.  
  
Black Pixie or whoever-the-reviewer-who-guessed-things-is, you are really good at guessing things. Almost too good. How on earth did you guess who they all are? You're right about Alan the minstrel, and her parents. I know you guessed all of that a long time ago, but it wasn't safe to tell you until this chapter. In this chapter I am going to tell who they all really are. So read on, and feel proud of yourself for guessing correctly!  
  
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I woke slowly the next morning. Sunlight played across my room, beams falling on my bed, coming through the open window. I stretched luxuriously, reveling in the warmth of the morning sun on my bare arms. I threw off the heavy quilt that was my blanket, stood, and stretched again. I walked across my room to my wardrobe and opened the heavy oak doors.  
  
I looked through my dresses. The reds and blues, I decided, were too vibrant and colorful for today. Blacks and grays were also out of the question; they were too somber and solemn. Finally, I settled on a dress of deep green (A/N: Lincoln green, anyone?) and a corset of soft brown doeskin. I slipped the dress over my head, settling it over the shift I had worn as a nightdress. I laced up the corset and looked around for my shoes.  
  
The comfortable, leather moccasins I wanted were lying near the foot of my bed. I slipped them on and ran to my dresser, where a brush was lying near a book and a small box. I hurriedly brushed my hair and left my room.  
  
I practically flew down the stairs and out through the kitchen, stopping to grab a chunk of bread and some cheese from the table where they were waiting for me. Cookie, the darling, knew I would want bread and cheese to take with me this morning, and had laid some out for me earlier, before she set about preparing breakfast for everyone else.  
  
I ran to the stables and pulled open one of the doors. I called a cheery "Good morning!" to the still-sleepy stablehands, then continued to my horse's stall. She's beautiful, brown with a black mane and tail, and a white star and white socks. Her name is Kaitlin after a brave girl in an Irish ballad I once heard.  
  
I quickly saddled and bridled Kaitlin, placing my bread and cheese into one of the saddlebags. I led her outside and shut the stable door behind me. I swung on, gripping the saddlehorn and swinging my right leg over.  
  
She went slowly until we had gone outside of the gates, then she started cantering. I laughed and patted her shoulder. I hadn't been able to take her out the previous morning, it had been raining and I don't like riding in the rain. Which is strange, considering I love to be outside in the rain.  
  
"Eager for a run, are we, girl?" I asked, leaning close to her neck.  
  
She took that as a signal to go faster and broke into a full gallop. I took the reins, being careful to leave her her head. I guided her to the left, towards Sherwood Forest. The old road we were following still had puddles from the previous day's rain. She swerved to avoid them.  
  
We came this way nearly every morning. Along the old road, then turning east towards Sherwood, entering the forest by a small game trail rather than the road.  
  
She slowed as we approached the forest and the turn we would take to find the game trail. We turned off the main road and found the game trail we had claimed as our own. Soon we were entering the green, leafy darkness of the forest. Kaitlin was just trotting now, following the familiar trail to a small stream with a conveniently placed flat rock, just right for a seat.  
  
I soon dismounted and tethered her near the stream so that she could graze as well as drink. I knelt by the stream and splashed the icy water on my face, then took a drink myself. I stood and took my bread and cheese out of Kaitlin's saddlebags, then sat on the flat rock. I was relaxing, enjoying the fresh morning air and babbling of the stream, when I heard a voice call out and noise in the underbrush.  
  
"My lady," called a semi-familiar voice. Crashing noises followed.  
  
I jumped up and whirled around. Alan the minstrel came out of the trees and brushed himself off.  
  
"Good morning," he said cheerfully, twigs and leaves stuck in his hair.  
  
"Good morning," I replied, seating myself on the rock again. "You gave me a start."  
  
"Did I? I appologize," he said, coming forward and looking around. He sounded so sincere that I smiled and moved over to make room for him to sit on the rock beside me. "Is that horse yours? She's beautiful," he said, gesturing at Kaitlin and seating himself on the rock.  
  
"Yes, she's mine. Her name is Kaitlin," I said. "Would you like some bread and cheese?"  
  
"After the brave little Irish girl?" he asked, amusement in his voice. "No, thank you, I have some with me." He opened a pouch at his waist and withdrew a hunk of bread and some cheese.  
  
"Yes," I said simply.  
  
"This is a beautiful spot," he said, looking once more at our surroundings.  
  
"I discovered it two years ago, just after I got Kaitlin," I replied. "Ever since, it's been my favorite place to come, in the mornings, or when I need to think."  
  
We munched in silence for a while, then he stood up. "I have to go, I promised your parents that I would play for them after breakfast," he said, bowing and stuffing the remainder of his bread and cheese back into the pouch.  
  
"I'll walk back with you," I said, also standing. "My parents might worry."  
  
I put the rest of my bread and cheese into Kaitlin's saddlebag, then I untethered her and led her back to the trail, where Alan the minstrel was waiting. Under the morning sun, I noticed something I had overlooked the night before. His dark hair was streaked with gray, which meant that he was at least as old as my father, and maybe older.  
  
We walked slowly back to my parent's house, talking and discussing debating about our favorite ballads and stories. We arrived just after everyone was finishing breakfast in the Great Hall. I bid him goodbye for a while, then I took Kaitlin back into the stable and into her stall. I cared for her, dawdling a little as I brushed her free of the burrs and grasses she had somehow picked up in the forest. I filled her water bucket and filled her food trough full of sweet hay and oats. As I left, she stopped eating long enough to whinny at me and lip my shoulder. I patted her nose and left the stable.  
  
I walked back to my room and brushed my hair again, a little slower this time. Then I went downstairs and seated myself to between my mother and father in the Great Hall. Beautiful harp music filled the entire hall. I listened and got lost in the stories of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table, stories of fair maidens and dragons, and stories of Robin Hood and the Lady Marian. Everyone applauded as Alan the minstrel stood and bowed.  
  
Almost everyone left the hall as he approached the table Father, Mother and I sat at. He kissed Mother's hand again, and, at her invitation, sat beside her. Father stared at the grain of the wood in the table as if he had to do something that he was dreading. He took a deep breath, gulped, and took another.  
  
"Mariel, my dear, we have something to tell you," Mother said gently, taking my hand. "Will wants to be the one to tell you, but he's having a hard time. We always knew the moment we would have to tell you this would come, but we have tried to delay it as much as possible. Last night, we realized it could not be delayed any longer. We only realized that because of Alan's arrival here. Perhaps, Alan, you would like to tell her your real name before we tell her anything else?" she said, directing the last remark to Alan the minstrel.  
  
"My name," Alan the minstrel said, "my full name is Alan-a-Dale."  
  
I gasped and jumped up. I was too shocked to speak. Alan-a-Dale? Alan-a- Dale, Robin Hood's minstrel? Surely not. Thoughts chased around my mind. Alan-a-Dale? Surely this was too good to be real. It couldn't be. Alan-a- Dale? What? How? Why? I already knew who. Alan-a-Dale? I stared at the minstrel, disbelieving.  
  
Mother pulled me back down into my chair and bit her lip. "Now for the part that your father and I have to tell you," she said finally. She stared down at the wooden table top, just as my father was doing. "Will, tell her. Tell her now or I'll do it."  
  
Father swallowed hard. "Mariel, we," he tried and broke off, then swallowed again. He tried again. "Mariel, we are not your real parents."  
  
I jumped up again and this time, Mother (or whoever she is, I am no longer sure) let me stay standing. "If you aren't my parents, who are? I don't understand," I cried. "If this is a joke, it is not funny. And it isn't the Fool's Day, so I don't understand why you're telling me this."  
  
"Mariel, we'll explain as best we can," the woman-who-may-not-be-my-mother- I-am-no-longer-sure said desperately. "We are really your foster parents. Your real parents are those two you have long admired."  
  
My mind raced. Who did she mean? Who have I long admired? I looked from the man I had once thought was my father to the woman I once thought was my mother to the man who claimed to be the famous Alan-a-Dale.  
  
"Your parents," the man I once thought to be my father said, almost choking on the words, "are, indeed, those two whose tales you love to hear."  
  
I stood stock still. Did they mean—?  
  
"Yes," the woman I once called Mother said heavily, "your parents are the bold Robin Hood and the Lady Marian."  
  
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Hahahahahahaha! *evil chuckle* And that's it for this chapter! Haha, cliffie! Evil, I know.  
  
I thought about ending it one sentence early, ending with "Did they mean—?" but then I decided that would be too mean and evil. I don't like cliffies too much personally, but this one should give you something to think about while we all wait for the internet at my house to be fixed.  
  
I have a sad thing to tell you, and a happy one. Sad thing first.  
  
Sad thing: Even if you review, that will not make me put up another chapter quickly. It couldn't. Reviews won't fix the internet at my house, sadly. Sad sad sad.  
  
Happy thing: I'll pester to go to the library, and I might be able to update at school next week. I'll beg my teachers to let me use the internet during lunch or something. Another happy thing: I really do love getting reviews from people! And I do try to update more often than I do! It's Friday as I'm writing this all up, I told you all that before, so as of right now, I have this chapter, two for my HP fic, and one for my Ella Enchanted fic. So on Saturday there will be at least four new chapters from me to all of you guys.  
  
Please review, even though I won't know for a while. I love getting reviews from all of you wonderful people! 


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